


What is Love?

by Fancifullauren



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Time Period, Grantaire's just a man who can't say no, Kink Meme, Love, M/M, Sex, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancifullauren/pseuds/Fancifullauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire can't say no to Enjolras.  Enjolras can't deny his human side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is Love?

**Author's Note:**

> For the Les Mis kink meme:  
> "E/R  
> Grantaire can't say no to Enjolras  
> That's it, that's the prompt, any context, rating, verse or genre but it has to be at least vaguely slashy."

Love is a fickle thing. One minute, it’s a deep emotional connection based upon mutual understanding and trust; the next, it’s fucking, it’s rutting, it’s a physical connection born out of a desire so fundamentally animalistic that one cannot help but think that there is no spiritual communication involved whatsoever. 

For Grantaire, it was forever a combination of the two aspects in constant fluctuation. Yes, the beautiful physical atouts of Enjolras were undeniable: the magnificent golden curls, the unbelievably pronounced cheekbones, the lofty forehead like the horizon at sunrise, but there was something more than these relatively petty things that drew him in like a moth to a flame. It was his silver tongue that could convince the Earth to change its direction around the Sun - no, scratch that, Enjolras was the sun around which the Earth turned. It was the fire behind his eyes when he spoke either to a crowd or in a condescending voice to Grantaire. The soaring passion in Enjolras was the reason why this neophyte was so devoted to him - a beacon of light to a blind man. 

Despite all of his godlike characteristics, Enjolras was inherently human: a trait he preferred to keep well-hidden amongst his more respectable compatriots. The ones he could spare, though - Grantaire included - well, he could afford to bare his more human side to them. Humans, after all, have needs and wants, sex and power chief among the primitive ones. Enjolras found ways to satisfy both. 

Grantaire’s views of love consisted mostly of an emotional attraction. He desired nothing more than to bask in the glow of Enjolras’ glory. To accomplish this, he would deliberately anger the god with pessimistic opinions so that he may happily accept his holy wrath. Each word lashing was a flash of attention perfectly formed just for him, each argument a vicious bite to the jugular. That’s how Enjolras fought: each blow was meant to kill. That’s just the way Grantaire liked it. To him, that was Enjolras spending time thinking about him, and that was love. 

Enjolras, on the other hand, wanted many things out of the cynic. His bitterness directed at the world was infuriatingly tempting, for he wanted nothing more than to wipe all thoughts of despondency out of his cynical mind and replace them with something - anything - that would be beneficial to his cause. He also wanted something he could not control himself. He lusted after the man’s beautiful dark curls, the scruff on his jaw. Grantaire’s was one allegiance he could afford to spare, due to his general distaste for him, but would never get rid of, as the drunk’s allegiance was born out of a pure and eternal devotion that not even death itself could eradicate. 

Enjolras was capable of being terrible. Grantaire was incapable of saying no. When these two things met, it was the perfect hellstorm. 

And so it was that Enjolras took advantage of the complete and utter devotion Grantaire harbored in his wretched heart. 

“Come with me,” he demanded flatly one evening after everyone but the intoxicated mess of a drunk and the shining leader had left. 

Grantaire looked up from where he had collapsed over a table. “Do you wish to further berate me with your foolish ideas?” He mocked, but couldn’t help but attempt to stand. 

Enjolras didn’t justify him with a response. 

He stumbled when he was finally standing, but Enjolras’ firm arms were there to catch him. He leaned in breathe in a carnal growl into his ear: “No. I wish to tie you up by your own shirtsleeves and have my way with you until you can no longer form a proper argument. The only berating you will be receiving this evening is not with words.” 

Grantaire couldn’t suppress a soft whimper. “Anything for you, dear Apollo,” he exhaled in response, his lips hanging open slightly afterward before Enjolras twisted forward to capture them in a rough kiss. If it had been difficult for Grantaire to remain erect beforehand, it was now impossible as his knees gave out. Enjolras was quicker; strong arms kept him upright until slowly lowering him down to the ground. Grantaire’s brown eyes were closed in a mixture of confusion and ecstasy and his hands shook. When the brunette was on his back, Enjolras immediately shoved two fingers past his red, swollen lips and busied his other hand undoing Grantaire’s buttons. There was nothing the subordinate could do other than try to relax and take whatever his god was willing to give him. 

“Suck,” Enjolras commanded in a condescending voice, and Grantaire tried his best to comply as he fought against the tears in his eyes and the gagging sensation from Enjolras’ fingers pressing unforgivingly against the back of his throat. When they were removed, R gasped for breath until he no longer could due to fast and furious lips working open his mouth. He tried his best to return the kiss, he really did, but the alcohol had long since gone to his brain and his motor skills were severely impaired. 

Perhaps his judgement was too, but at that point he didn’t have it in him to care, because a cold, wet finger was pressing up inside him. Enjolras lifted himself up so he could clearly see the look of pleasure on Grantaire’s face. 

His wide brown eyes had snapped open and were staring up at him, saying a million things at once. 

_I don’t want this._

_I need this._

_I love you._

_Please love me._

So many conflicting emotions made their way across the drunk’s face that Enjolras was forced to lean forward and bite his lower lip again to keep them from affecting him. He made quick, hasty work of preparing the man squirming in bewildered gratification. Finally, he thrusted in, spit and precum the only lubrication. The larger man’s face instantly scrunched up in pain, but he didn’t beg for him to stop; he only let out wordless cries of agony. 

If Enjolras felt remorse, it didn’t show in the unforgiving pace his thrusts adopted, leaning forward to bite dark bruises in Grantaire’s sweaty shoulders. He found his release a few minutes later, cumming with a drawn-out animalistic grunt as the brunette shouted below him.

Collapsing on top of Grantaire, the leader kissed his stubbled cheek. Grantaire’s breathing was ragged, coming in short gasps. 

“I love you,” he murmured into the blond’s neck. 

And because Enjolras was at times a merciful god, he kissed his lips tenderly. 

“Come home with me, I will show you the love you deserve.” 

“I don’t deserve your love.” 

“I will show it to you nonetheless.” 

Being unable to deny his leader, R followed him home. He was obedient in accepting physical pleasure from Enjolras’ mouth, and came down his throat like he wanted. When they fell asleep in each others’ arms, the cynic couldn’t quell the small void in his chest that ached for a deeper, more emotional love between himself and his perfect Apollo.

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't have a Beta for this... I usually use one (except for drabbles), but with this fic I was kinda ashamed of myself for writing it so I needed to publish it before I decided it needed to be thrown into the fires of hell and never seen again. Don't hate me.  
> x


End file.
